


interwoven

by jazziisms



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/M, Female Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-15 05:38:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4594881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jazziisms/pseuds/jazziisms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>canon divergence. historia is homeless after she’s told to leave home and take on an alias before she joins the military. The night before shiganshina falls, she’s cornered by thugs. mikasa finds her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	interwoven

**Author's Note:**

> I literally came up with this on a whim. It’s basically an excuse to write little!Mikakuri. I wanted to know what their friendship would be like currently in the manga if they had met when they were kids, and this ended up being the result! The actual pairings in this fic, if you guys want me to continue it, will eventually be Arukuri/Aruhisu and Eremika. I also don’t write in the present tense much, so I hope this turned out okay. Happy reading!

She’s lonely and cold, and she has nowhere to go. She hides in the streets, the alleys, anywhere she lays down can be a home. Tonight is no different. She finds a dark alley and settles there with the little she has -- the little she’s left with -- and prepares to settle in for the night.

That is, until she hears the voices.

The very voices that send cold chills running down her spine and her back against the wall.

_No...no! They weren’t supposed to find me here!_

They are thugs, she can tell. Can tell by the way they carry themselves, by the way they leer at others who so much as glimpse at them, by the way the imprint of their knives protrude through their pants. And for some, sickening reason, they find interest in her, and have been following her around all night. She does not know why, she cannot give away her true identity. Do they know? They shouldn’t! She was told not to say anything, and she has obeyed! Who are these men? Why do they want her? Why can’t they just leave her alone? She’s just a child! Do not rob her of her innocence! What little of it she has left!

“There you are,” the first one leers, beginning to stalk forward. It’s difficult for her to see, and she immediately is at a loss of where to go. She can’t run, because they will catch her. She can’t stay still, but she has no other option. She cowers, tiny fists balled up by her sides. Thin arms pinned there.

“What’cha hidin’ from, sweetheart?” the second says in a sickening sweet voice, and she whimpers. They’re coming closer, and she does not like it.

“Yeah,” says the third, his knife drawn from his pocket with a simple  _ssslt_. “If you cooperate, we won’t hurt ya one bit.”

“I-I don’t believe you,” she stammers, her voice soft and trembly. This could be the end of her, right here, and no one will know. No one will care. Not her father, not her dead mother, and the only people who cared enough to know who she is only want her dead as soon as possible.

“Aww, wouldja look at that, fellas? She doesn’t believe us.”

“Cute.”

“I’m gonna have fun with this one.”

The three cackle together, a sound that will haunt her into her teen years and even further down the line, and they draw closer. Closer. Closer until she could see their silhouettes, blending into one shape as they crowd together and around her. Until she could smell the alcohol and tobacco on their breath.

"No, please don't. Please," a whimper, a plea. No, this can't happen. _Don't do this! I have nothing left to lose! Nothing..._

Her eyes are shut tight, head against the wall as she cringes away from a tough hand. What's supposed to be a caress of a lover is flipped into the unwanted touch of a molester, and more hands proceed to follow.

Until --

 _WHAM. CRACK!_ There's a strangled cry of pain as the first thug is thrown off of her and, from the thumping sound, she assumes he hit the wall before falling to a dark heap on the ground. She gasps in surprise and watches the scene unfold in front of her wide, tearful blue eyes, knees finally giving out as she slides her back down the cold surface of the wall until she's on the ground, paralyzed. The second man is already unconscious by the time she blinks, and the third puts up a fight with the intruder. But his cries are cut short, and she sees the knife disappear into his thigh, the young girl choking back a silent cry of shock as the man doubles over in pain and is kicked to the side like a rag doll. What is happening? Who has come to her rescue? Or is she in deeper trouble now, the intruder surely coming to finish her off?

The footsteps that she hears are small, like hers, as the person comes closer to her. She fails to see who it is, and all she can do is gaze dumbfoundedly, her heart ready to burst out of her chest. She's waiting, waiting until...

"It's okay. I won't hurt you."

She's surprised at how youthful the voice sounds, and is sent into further shock when a small pale hand extends towards her to help her up. The moonlight then shines down, casting an angelic glow around her savior and she takes a good look at them. Standing before her, unharmed, is a girl around her age with raven black hair, eyes glowing silver in the light of the moon, and a scarf around her neck.

"Who...who were they?" her voice is quiet, timid, as she takes her hand and is pulled to her feet.

"Doesn't matter." The raven doesn't let go of her hand, walk brisk as she leads her out of the alleyway. "What were you doing?"

She keeps pace, still shaken from what has just occurred. "I was..I was finding somewhere to sleep."

"You don't have a home?"

 _Not anymore._  "No..."

The raven slows her walk, and she sees an odd look flicker across her face. She doesn't question her.

"What's your name?"

The blonde panics. She can't tell her name. She can't tell where she's from. She can't tell why she has to hide. She...She can't.

She must start over. She wants to forget.

"C-Christa," she stammers finally.

"Christa..." the raven echoes, and she nods her head slowly. "I'll take you to my house. It's safe there."

_Safe..._

"Okay," Christa agrees with no hesitation, resuming her walk with her, hand in hand still. "What's your name?"

The raven looks over at her and smiles a little. "Mikasa."

.

.

.

"Mikasa! Oh thank goodness you're safe! You had us worried sick!"

Mikasa is being tightly embraced by a beautiful brunette woman with brown hair and chocolate brown eyes that glowed amber in the firelight’s glow.. Christa hangs back by the door, looking around the house to avoid eye contact with anyone. She doesn't know what to expect.

"I'm fine," the raven insists, her voice muffled in the woman's shoulder.

"You were supposed to stick with Eren, sweetheart. What happened?"

Mikasa steps back from the hug and turns to Christa, who’s eyes begin to widen when all of the attention is directed on her. This is when she realizes that there are not one, not two, but four other people in the room with them: the woman, a man with round glasses and teal eyes, and two boys her age she assumes -- one brown haired and green eyed, the other blond haired and blue eyed like her. "I got sidetracked."

"Grisha..." the woman gasps, taking in Christa's condition, and she's taken aback by the genuine worry in her brown eyes as she comes closer.

"I see her, honey," said Grisha, gaze flickering over to the two boys, who’re openly gawking.

"Hi, sweetheart," she bends down in front of her. "Are you alright? Where's your family?"

"I don't have any family," Christa answers softly. "I don't mean to intrude, but I have nowhere to go...Mikasa found me while I was..."

"While you were...?"

“She was being followed by men,” Mikasa speaks as she moves to stand beside her. Christa gently grips her sleeve and shifts closer to her. “There were three of them.”

“So  _that’s_ where you ran off to!” exclaims the blond boy, coming closer with his friend.

“I told you we should’ve checked the alleys, Armin!” the brunet shoots his companion a look of disapproval.

“Eren, don’t yell at him,” Mikasa scolds before the woman can.

“I’m not yelling at him!”

“It was my fault,” she continues as if Eren hadn’t spoken, and Christa gapes at her in shock. How is any of this her fault? If it wasn’t for her, Christa would be...she doesn’t want to think about that right now. Mikasa stuck up for her, and now Christa is going to stick up for her friend too.

“Don’t say that!” Christa squeaks. “None of this is your fault. I’m the one who decided to sleep there and…”

“But they were following you anyway. They had you cornered.” Mikasa’s gaze flickers over to whom, Christa assumes to be, must have been the parental figures of the home. “We were on our way back when I saw them follow. Eren and Armin were preoccupied with themselves and...I wasn’t thinking properly.” She turns to the warm woman. “Punish me, Carla. Not Eren.”

Carla shakes her head. “No, no. No one’s in trouble.” She looks over her shoulder at her husband. “Grisha?”

Grisha nods and stands from the table, putting on his hat. “Armin, time for me to take you home.”

“Okay.” Armin nods, glancing at his best friend as he goes over to stand with Grisha. “Bye, Eren.”

“See you later, Armin.” Eren waves a lazy hand.

Grisha walks up to the three girls, but he’s looking at the blonde as he speaks. “Christa, would you like to come with us?”

“Eh?” Christa looks from Grisha, to the boy named Armin, to Carla, Eren, and finally Mikasa. She panics again. No! Where would he take her? She wants to stay with her friend!

“Oh, don’t worry,” said Armin, gazing at her in kind. “Dr. Jaeger is just taking me back home. I live with my grandpa. I’m sure he’ll be happy to have you.”

“No child deserves to be homeless.” Grisha kneels down in front of her. “I took in Mikasa about a year ago now. You have nothing to fear, Christa.”

Christa hesitates. She’s not threatened by anyone, or scared of them. More so, the thing she fears is being alone again. And being separated from the girl she’s grown attached to in a matter of minutes. She looks at Mikasa, gauging her reaction, wanting to know what she thinks of this.

“You should go with them,” Mikasa looks over at her as she speaks, maintaining a calm composure. “Armin’s grandfather is really nice,” she adds when Christa opens her mouth to protest. “You’ll be safe.”

“Will I ever see you again?” The words leave her mouth before she can stop them, but she wants to know. She needs to know.

The word that leaves the raven’s mouth is almost enough to make her cry out in relief.

“Yes.”

Christa’s decision is final. “Okay,” she says to Grisha. “I’ll go with you.”

But before she leaves, she turns around and glomps Mikasa tightly, murmuring her thanks against her shoulder. Mikasa is surprised, hands hovering over the girl awkwardly for a moment. A beat passes, and she relaxes, and her arms fold around Christa in a firm, close hug, and suddenly it’s harder for Christa to pull away. She’s just met Mikasa, yet she’s scared to leave her because she’s worried she’ll wake up and this will all be a dream. And this wouldn’t be real. And her friend wouldn’t exist.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Mikasa’s voice is soft and reassuring in her ear, and she nods her head. Throat tight. Why does she feel the need to cry? She’ll see her tomorrow, like Mikasa said.

“Okay,” Christa nods and opens her eyes, finally drawing back from the hug to look at Grisha and Armin. “I’m ready to go now.”

.

.

.

It wasn’t a far walk, and Armin talks her all the way there. He is a bit on the shy side, like she is, so it doesn’t take for her to warm up to him as well. He keeps the topic light, and away from anything that has to do with her family, and she is grateful for it. Instead, he queries the simple things, like her favorite color, food, what’s her favorite book if she has one, etc., and before she knows it she’s asking him all sorts of questions.  _What’s your favorite? How long have you known Mikasa? Do you have a nice house? Does your grandpa tell jokes?_

She avoids the topic of his parents, because she thinks she knows already.

Grandpa Arlert is a kind, round man, who smiled at her as soon as he saw her. While he talks to Grisha, Armin takes her inside and shows her around. Their home is about as big as the Jaeger’s, and feels just as welcoming.

“...And if you need anything, don’t be afraid to ask,” Armin’s saying as he stops to look at her. “Any questions?”

“Um...yes.” She looks around for a brief moment before meeting his patient gaze. “Is there somewhere I can bathe?”

.

.

.

“I’m glad my clothes fit you,” Armin appraises as he gets comfortable on the floor, pulling his blanket over his legs. She sits in his bed near him indian style, wearing one of his shirts and pants for pajamas. They’re very comfortable, she decides. “Eren and Mikasa normally go get firewood in the mornings, but we can still go back over there and see if Aunt Carla has anything for you to wear.”

“Aunt?” Christa echoes.

Armin smiles. “She insists I call her that. I’ve known her since I was little. She’s always been there for me.”

Christa’s heart wrenches bittersweetly as the thought of her dead mother crosses her mind. “I see.”

“You okay?” His eyes are on her face, studying her. She must’ve been obvious. Too obvious. She’ll have to be more careful next time.

“Yeah.” Christa hugs her knees to her chest. “Just thinking, that’s all.”

“I understand. You don’t have to talk about it.” He begins to lay down on the floor, using his sweater as a pillow.

“What are you doing?” she peers down at him.

“What do you mean? I’m getting ready to go to sleep.”

“Isn’t that uncomfortable?”

“It’s fine. Really.”

Christa chews on her bottom lip. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“You sure you don’t want a pillow?”

“I’m sure.”

“Not even --?”

He laughs. “Christa.”

“Yes?”

“This wouldn’t be the first time I’ve slept on the floor.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I’m at the Jaegers a lot, so when I spend the night we sometimes sleep on the floor. Depending where we are at the time.”

“Oh...alright...if you insist --”

“I do.”

“But if you feel uncomfortable at any time, please tell me!”

“I will.”

“Okay.”

She slumps down into Armin’s mattress, pulling the sheets up to her chin as she lays on her side to look at him. Everything around her smells like him, and she likes the scent. It comforts her, somehow.

“Armin?”

“Yes?”

Christa yawns and curls into a little ball, finally feeling the drowsiness pulling her closer and closer to unconsciousness. “I’m not scared anymore…”

Armin chuckles and rolls over on his back. “Goodnight, Christa.”

She’s already asleep before she can reply.

.

.

.

“Armin!” Christa cries out his name as one of the bullies grabs him by the collar and throws him up against the wall. She’s worried for her friend, and her fear has returned, trembling her knees and hands. It is the next day, and she’s wearing a soft yellow sweater to go with her white dress with her hair pulled back in a ponytail. They had been heading back to Armin’s house to get a book he wants to show her, but they are stopped by a gang of bullies that decided to pick on them. Christa’s being held back by one of them, a large, beefy hand wrapped around her collar and tightening his grip when she struggles.

Armin does not fight back, and that fascinates her. She watches as he leaves the bullies dumbfounded with his logical reasoning, only frustrating them further, and shuts her eyes as a fist raises to strike again.

 _“Armin!”_ a male voice shouts this time, and Christa is dropped immediately. At the sound of the familiar voice, Christa looks up to see Eren racing down the pavement straight for them, an angry, passionate fire in his eyes.

And Mikasa is right behind him.

The bullies bolt and run for it as soon as they spot the raven, running for their lives in the opposite direction. Eren skids to a stop and boasts confidently, but it does not last, and he turns to see Armin on the ground. He goes over to him and speaks, holding his hand out to him, but Armin doesn’t take it. Assuring Eren he’s alright, when he’s probably not.

“Christa.”

The sound of Mikasa’s voice snaps her out of her apparent staring, and she turns to see the raven with her hand outstretched towards her, much like Eren had done with Armin, much like she had done last night. Mere hours ago even. And this time, the sun was high in the sky, and sunlight is beaming down instead of the moon.

“Mikasa,” she says her friend’s name in relief, taking her hand and letting the latter help her up to her feet. “Thank goodness.”

“Did they hurt you?”

“No. I’m fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“What happened?”

“Well, they came up to us first and...made fun of Armin,” Christa explains as the other two approach them. “They teased him by calling me his...girlfriend…” A rosy blush blossoms over her cheeks and she avoids looking  in Armin’s direction. “And when he tried to get me to keep walking, they grabbed him and they --”

“Heh. Fucking bastards,” Eren growls.

“Don’t worry about them,” Mikasa says. “They’re gone. They won’t mess with them if we’re around.”

“Guys…” Armin rubs the back of his head, blushing faintly himself.

“Uh?” Christa looks from one face to the next, wondering if this is a common thing. Wondering how many times Armin gets picked on, bullied, and how many times Mikasa and Eren jump in to save him. And speaking of...where did Mikasa learn to fight like she did last night? H-How does she…?

“Where were you guys coming from?” Armin asks, following Eren towards town. Christa doesn’t listen, at least not really.

Mikasa’s still holding her hand, and she’s never felt safer.

.

.

.

**_And on that day, humanity received a grim reminder..._ **


End file.
